


come and go with me

by theredtailedhawkwithjewelsforeyes



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Humor, M/M, POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, The Law of Surprise, i think this counts as a post ep 6 fix it, jaskier is stubborn, jaskier makes friends by way of being extremely annoying at someone until theyre like ok whatever., just basically. everything but their circumstances of meeting were different?, misunderstandings sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:27:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22341040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theredtailedhawkwithjewelsforeyes/pseuds/theredtailedhawkwithjewelsforeyes
Summary: “What the fuck are you doing,” says Geralt, because it’s important to get concisely to the root of the problem. Lute beams.“Hello, I’m your Bard of Surprise,” he introduces himself, unhelpfully.“Hmm,” says Geralt, considering the man- then he turns back to Roach and keeps walking. “Go away. I don’t want you.”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 169
Kudos: 1949
Collections: Abby's Witcher Collection





	come and go with me

**Author's Note:**

> so originally i had a title from . the witcher soundtrack. but i just listened to 'im going to go back there someday' from the muppet movie and.... come On.... "There's not a word yet for old friends who've just met"? "Is that a song there, and do I belong there?"???? its too much.

So- 

So. Geralt is- 

Geralt _isn’t_ , rather, a terribly- 

Well-

He’s not good with _words_. That’s fine. He doesn’t need to be good with words. Geralt is for monster-killing and, when he has the coin, fucking, and you don’t need words for that. It’s all actions, and Geralt is good at actions. People who spend all their time chattering are irritations, is what they are, and Geralt is perfectly content just not talk at all. Or he talks to his horse, because she doesn’t care about his five minute silence as he gathers his words together. 

He’s not _stupid_. He’s just less eloquent than some. His humor is dry and biting and generally not funny to anyone but him and, presumably, Roach. It’s not for anyone else. It is the way of solitary hunters to withdraw, and Geralt is no exception. 

There’s a point to this. He’s getting to a point. 

His interactions with people are short. He is told where the monster is, he brings back the monster head and demands his coin. Sometimes he saves someone’s life but they usually turn tail and run from _him_ immediately, so no worries there. Rehearsed if nothing else. Sometimes people glare at him, but they generally don’t have the balls to actually confront him. He leaves with his coin. Okay. 

He slashes at the throat of a ghoul with his sword, trying valiantly to ignore the panicked babble of a nobleman who has not gotten up to _run_ yet. 

Right. Geralt is in the woods, trying to kill a ghoul that’s been terrorizing a little village. There’s was a man- noble, by the rich clothes- about to be eaten by the ghoul. Geralt is trying to kill the ghoul. The man is not running away. 

Irritating. 

A battle. Sort of. The ghoul is half-starved and doesn’t put up much of a fight. Geralt gets a shock of rotten blood to his face, and he’s spitting it out as he saws off the ghoul’s head to take back to the town. The man is getting to his feet. 

“Kind Witcher,” he starts, and Geralt doesn’t even try to hold back his groan. The man is not deterred. “Kind Witcher, you’ve saved me, how could I possibly ever repay you- anything you want-” 

Geralt does not want anything this man has. He’s getting gold enough with the ghoul, and there’s no sense in traveling with bags of money. “I don’t want your shit.” 

A pause, blessed silence. The nobleman blinks three times but doesn’t seem terribly deterred. “I insist. Anything you wish for- a piece of land, a-” 

“Law of Surprise,” Geralt grunts out, because Roach would probably find that funny. Roach is, of course, a horse, and he’s under no illusion she has a very complex view of the world, but she would still find the way the man sort of freezes and looks entirely alarmed- well, it's funny. He’s a nobleman, though. What possible surprises could he have? 

He picks up the ghoul’s head by its stringy hair. 

“Of course, kind Witcher,” says the nobleman. His voice is nasally. His rich clothes have mud on them. Geralt would be pleased if he never heard his voice again. “I- well, of course. So-” 

Geralt leaves him in the woods. He’d left Roach grazing back on the path, and the man’s almost caught up to him when he swings onto her back. And then he leaves him on the road. 

-

He is supping in the tavern, his coin sat comfortably in his pocket, when he sees the noble again. He’s dragging a struggling man by the ear, and Geralt feels a prickle of foreboding in his stomach. 

“Witcher,” the noble cries- his voice is reedy and not terribly powerful but the inn goes silent anyways, all eyes turning to the man and his catch. A young man, slender, a lute strapped to his back and his eyes sparkling with a panicked sort of mischief. He is dressed in silks and his curly hair is hopelessly messy.

That prickle again. 

“You have claimed the Law of Surprise,” says the noble, loudly. For _fuck’s_ sake, Geralt thinks. 

“For fuck’s sake,” he says, setting his tankard down on the table with a heavy thump. “I don’t want your brat.”

  
“He’s not _mine_ ,” the noble says, at the same time Lute protests “I’m not his brat!”. It’s less than charming. All eyes are still on them- Geralt growls. Both men pale. “I found him in my bed, with my _wife_ ,” the noble continues, smugly shaking Lute by his arm. Generally that wouldn’t be something to be proud of. “By the Law of Surprise, he’s yours.” 

“Don’t want him,” Geralt grunts, pushing back his bench to stand. The noble deflates. 

“What? I don’t want him- if you don’t take him,” the noble says, apparently struck by a burst of inspiration, “I’ll put him in my dungeons to rot.” Lute looks unimpressed by the threat. There is a chuckle throughout the tavern, and the tips of the noble’s ears go red. Geralt pushes past him on the way to the door. “Gods curse you, Witcher, _destiny_ says he’s yours now, just-” 

“Fuck destiny,” Geralt says, and leaves him in the pub. It is immensely satisfying. 

-

He is a day down the road, walking Roach with a guiding hand on her reins, when he hears a faint jingle behind him. It is not so uncommon to meet other travelers on the road, so Geralt keeps half an ear pricked for it and continues on his way. 

Half an hour later, Lute comes careening into his side full tilt. 

“Holy fuck, you're big,” says Lute accusingly, like he isn’t the one that’s just been run into- he’s flat on his back, sprawled in the dust, and Geralt and Roach are still standing. Lute has had a few changes to his face since last Geralt saw him- one of his eyes are blacked, and his lip is split and still bleeding sluggishly down his chin. He still looks generally cheerful regardless, and bounces up to his feet.

“What the fuck are you doing,” says Geralt, because it’s important to get concisely to the root of the problem. Lute beams. 

“Hello, I’m your Bard of Surprise,” he introduces himself, unhelpfully. 

“Hmm,” says Geralt, considering the man- then he turns back to Roach and keeps walking. “Go away. I don’t want you.” 

“Rude,” says Lute cheerily, falling into step beside Geralt. “My name’s Jaskier, I’m a troublemaking troubadour. A balladeer, a poet, a romantic scourge of the lands, all around heartthrob.” Geralt wonders vaguely if the split lip is making it hurt to talk, but if it is it doesn’t seem to be making much of an impact on Jaskier. A shame. 

“I don’t want you,” he repeats- the bard shouldn’t be too hard to get rid of, but it would be nice if he’d just leave on his own. 

“Tough,” says Jaskier, sounding far too happy for someone in his situation. 

-

The bard is hard to get rid of. The bard is incredibly hard to get rid of. Geralt ignores him for the entire journey to the next town, which is well over a day away, and the creature just does not stop _talking_. He starts flagging about halfway through, because he’s on foot and Geralt had only reluctantly given him a bit of bread- what sort of fool doesn’t pack food? But now that Geralt looks at him, all Jaskier has are his slightly torn silk clothing. Well. Not his problem. They make camp and Geralt does his best to sneak away in the morning, but Jaskier is already up and bouncing around. He sings, too, which shouldn’t be as much of a surprise as it is, but he’s already fucking composed a song about Geralt’s accidental acquisition of a loyal bard by the time they’re in sight of the next village over. 

“I’m not keeping you,” he snaps, and Jaskier sort of skips away, which would be well and good if he didn’t _find_ Geralt again at the pub to start singing that damn song. Geralt gets a job and Jaskier fucking _follows_ him. 

He feels like he’s about to explode- he picks Jaskier up by the collar of his fancy doublet instead, depositing him several paces away. “Stay where you are or the gods won’t be able to help you,” he snaps, and Jaskier gives him an irreverent sort of shrug but stays put. Geralt kills a monster. 

“Brilliant,” Jaskier says cheerfully. 

-

Geralt is, for once, at a loss. The bard doesn’t seem to find it offputting in the slightest that Geralt very clearly wants nothing to do with him. He trails along behind the Witcher ceaselessly, composing songs about things that sort of but pretty much didn’t happen- for instance, the werewolf Geralt killed had been a cruel beast that stole maidens from their homes instead of sheep. Geralt doesn’t say anything to him besides “go away” and still he tags along. 

It’s like he doesn’t care that if he annoys Geralt too much he could be crushed like a bug. It’s infuriating.

-

An interesting fact about Jaskier that Geralt notes almost without meaning to is that he never smells frightened. He looks like a man that should be afraid all the time, but Geralt’s Witcher senses know the truth. The only time he’s ever smelled of fear was that first night in the tavern. 

-

They are sitting a month later at a campfire. Geralt is cleaning his sword and Jaskier is tuning his lute, talking absently about nothing. 

“Why won’t you leave?” Geralt asks. Jaskier glances up at him, gives him one of his beaming grins. 

“Not sure,” he admits, more honest than the Witcher has ever heard him. “You’re good for stories.”

“Hmm,” says Geralt- he considers the bard with sharp eyes. He is irritating but harmless, and he makes good coin with his songs that he shares willingly. Pampered, fussy, a little pompous, but he hardly ever complains seriously. And he’s surprisingly good in a pinch- a week ago he’d patched Geralt up nicely after a claw to the shoulder. 

-

Because Jaskier also happens to be an idiot, on top of everything else, Geralt is not terrifically surprised when he gets a bloody pile of bard tossed at his feet when he’s trying to have some ale in a tavern. No- what surprises him is that he feels a hot spike of anger in his chest when he looks up at the men who did it. They crab for the swords at their sides and he glares. 

“Caught the little bastard with the lord’s son,” says the stupider one, sounding smug. “Said he was yours.” The less stupid one grabs his arm before Geralt can get to his feet, and they vanish. The puddle lets out a little moan, and Geralt has to fight to not roll his eyes, but- there’s still that hot anger in his chest. He scoops Jaskier up none too gently, setting him down on his feet and giving him hardly a moment to regain his balance before he drags the both of them up to Geralt’s room. 

“I’m usually quicker than this,” Jaskier says- his voice sounds thick and wet, and Geralt glances up swiftly to see if he’s crying. Just the broken nose. Good. 

“Hmm,” he says, setting the bard down on the bed- he sways and flops slowly back, and Geralt can’t help but roll his eyes. “Get- Jaskier, get up. Sit up. Stop sleeping with the wrong people,” he feels compelled to add- Jaskier looks a _mess_. Broken nose, bleary eyes, split lip again. His anger fades to irritation. 

“He was pretty,” the bard mumbles, a trail of blood worming its way out of his mouth. 

“Shut up,” Geralt says, not unkindly, and then he sets Jaskier’s nose. The resulting crack makes Jaskier go stock still, like instead of screaming he’s bottled himself up inside. He doesn’t smell frightened- he smells just as reluctantly familiar as ever. Forest after a rain, with the heavy iron tang of blood. Sex, too, but that’s not uncommon for Jaskier. 

Geralt sighs, and accepts he’s not getting rid of him. 

-

A genie, unsurprisingly, is trouble. Jaskier almost dies. Geralt fucks a witch. Everyone lives. All in all, it’s an alright day. 

-

Jaskier has sat draped over Geralt ever since Geralt had stopped bothering to push him away. In taverns, in the forest- he acts like a cat, always rubbing up against him for affection. Geralt isn’t one for metaphors but this is one he keeps coming back to- Jaskier curled in the sun, Jaskier contented ooze waking up, Jaskier so terribly proud of himself when he’d deposited a bowl of stew in front of Geralt. The way he withdraws into himself when truly injured but complains mercilessly when it’s hardly a scratch. His unexpected, fierce protectiveness. 

Most tellingly: the way Geralt had gone in intending to dislike him and now- 

Well.

-

Geralt gets a Bard of Surprise. 

“That’s a stupid name,” he’s always telling Jaskier- out loud, or in exasperated looks. It’s catchy in the songs, Jaskier always replies, looking pleased with himself. 

Geralt gets, reluctantly, a friend. 

-

Geralt isn’t good with words. Jaskier is. For a long time, Geralt assumes that Jaskier is only words. 

He’s more than that. Contentedness smells like apples on him, sweet and tart. No matter how much he chatters, he’s never mentioned a single thing from before Geralt met him. His eyes are bright blue. He likes sweets. His hands are always steady and he learned how to stitch up a wound from somewhere. He mostly sleeps with people when someone tells him not to. He is far too reckless. 

“Why do you stay?” Geralt asks. It is late at night, and he is pressed to Geralt’s side in a way neither of them will admit they crave. 

“Who else is going to keep you out of trouble?” he answers. 

-

He pushes him away on a mountaintop and immediately regrets it. There’s a look in Jaskier’s eyes when he turns away, a sort of resignation. Geralt has told him to leave one hundred times and he wishes Jaskier would ignore him again. 

Jaskier is more than words. He goes. 

-

It has been busy- there is war breaking out. He has his Child Surprise. 

He needs his Bard. 

He finds Jaskier in a tavern. He is humming to himself, and when he looks up to see Geralt he looks wary. There is no hint of fear in his scent. 

“I thought you wanted me to go,” he says. 

“When have you ever listened to me?” asks Geralt. 

Geralt isn’t good with words. He is good at actions. He extends a hand.

Jaskier takes it.

**Author's Note:**

> for the prompt from the-interuniversal-geometer: "I just had this idea for a story and you can do whatever you want with it. Geralt saves a mans life and in exchange claims the law of surprise. When the man comes home he finds Jaskier sleeping with his wife, Jaskier being the thing be didn’t expect to find at home. Jaskier now belongs to Geralt through the law of surprise, but Geralt wants nothing to do with him. It obv ends happily though. Let me know what you think!" i thought this was ENTIRELY hilarious so i had 2 do it thank u 
> 
> i was just thinking. like. i couldnt pass up the opportunity for geralt to have fucked up once in the law of surprise department and gotten jaskier and then like TWO YEARS LATER be like 'well im sure the same thing cant happen twice' and claim the law of surprise w ciri........ like 
> 
> i hope u like this!! if u Do pls shoot me an ask over at redjewelsforeyes.tumblr.com i am always down for a prompt (PLEASE)
> 
> ALSO pls leave me a comment ill send a little smooch rocketing your way


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